


Leave Me on The Tracks

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angry Sex, Complicated Relationships, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Power Imbalance, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin John, non-binary john marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: "I ain't mad at you," John mutters, eyes closed, head pillowed on his arm."What?" Arthur asks hoarsely."I… Forgive you, I guess. Don't blame you for it to begin with.""... John-""I enjoyed most of it, just shoulda said somethin' when it got too much, but it's not-""John," Arthur says again, cutting in sharply and John goes still, a nervous shiver going up his spine, "That ain't how it works."
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	Leave Me on The Tracks

**Author's Note:**

> READ ME  
> hi hi john is enby in this nub, slit, hole, and cunt are used for john  
> basically in the beginning they don't discuss boundaries and both of them go into with shaky intentions, Arthur angry and john worried he might never get another chance with Arthur, john is a virgin, and it's super overwhelming, arthur's super guilty, john's confused as fuck it's a whole mess and they talk about it about as much as you'd expect two dumbass cowpoke to talk about their consent and boundaries
> 
> title from the daughter song 'landfill'

He's perhaps a bit mad at Arthur.

Or a lot mad. 

Very, _very_ mad.

Furious, in fact, with the older man, for booting him out of their shared room. 

John can hear the moans, the giggling and groaning and it _burns_ in him. 

He lets his head fall back against the wall loudly, hoping to inspire some fucking decency in them. 

It doesn't have any noticeable effect. 

John curls up at the end of the hallway under the window and buries his face in his knees.

Angry, yeah, but also _hurt_. 

\--

It's Arthur's hand on his shoulder, voice murmuring from above him. 

John knows this.

Doesn't even have to be fully awake to know this. 

He lifts his head and glares at the older man, hours have passed, he's exhausted.

Several times he'd been tempted to ask Dutch for a second room so he could get some decent sleep but…

Every time he got close, something nagged at him. 

That he was the weird one here, not Arthur, that he was making a fuss, Arthur was just being a _man_.

'You wouldn't understand' Dutch would say, and maybe pity him enough to pay for his drink. 

The anger in his stomach sours sharply, nausea churned from ripcurrent self-loathing. 

"Come on," Arthur mutters and pulls him up and fuck if John doesn't feel like a little kid again, "Get up."

As easy as Arthur pushes him around and bosses him around and good God he's sick of being _small_. 

He shoves Arthur away the second they're back in the room, grimacing at the smell and bypassing the older man to crawl into his bed and burrow under the covers. 

"... Jesus, John, no need to be so pissy about it," Arthur mutters, sounding distant. 

John wants to _sob_ , Arthur doesn't get it. 

It's not annoyance, or even inconvenience, it's bitter jealousy, inadequacy. 

A perpetual plea to any God for an answer to why Arthur doesn't think he's good enough. 

Why John's company isn't enough, why John's not an option or outlet for pleasure and lust and _why_ oh _why_ does Arthur not notice how it hurts him?

Maybe he does… Maybe it's a long game, pushing John away, punishing him for ever daring to think himself worthy of Arthur. 

John's chest burns, throat aches with each sob he's keeping in. 

There's a desperate hope in him, that he could drop to his knees and let Arthur _see_ , that he can take it, would take anything, willing and wanton if it meant Arthur wanted him. 

He wraps his arms tighter around the pillow and tries to block out Arthur's shuffling. 

"John?"

He doesn't answer, tries to slow his breathing, still himself, a futile attempt at playing asleep when they both know sleep has never come easy to John. 

"Hey… Kid, I'm sorry," Arthur says awkwardly, "Lost track of time."

A bitter, sobbing laugh escapes John and he quickly tries to muffle it, smothering himself with the stale smelling pillowcase. 

"John?" Arthur repeats, closer, more concerned, "Seriously, you alright?" 

"Fuck off," John says with as much numb venom as he can muster. 

He's not sure how, but he _hears_ Arthur's annoyance spike, in the resettling of the older man's weight, the slow, too-controlled inhale. 

"What the hell?" Arthur asks as he tugs on the covers John's trying to hide under. 

John is rarely subject to this much anger from the older man directed _at_ him. 

Usually it's carry over, impersonal. 

This… This feels personal. 

John shoves off the covers and turns sharply to face Arthur, yanking the older man off balance, onto the bed. 

Having already been leaning over John, Arthur stumbles, plants his knee between John's to steady himself. 

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Arthur growls. 

"Maybe _you're_ the issue, Arthur!" John says hoarsely, frowning heavily up at the older man. 

Arthur narrows his eyes and readjusts himself.

"What? Are you jealous? Bitter you never get any attention?" Arthur asks cruelly and John swallows thickly, "That's it, ain't it?"

John stares. 

"Christ, Kid, if you needed help gettin' laid you shoulda just said," Arthur mutters and drops his head slightly, with a tired exhale. 

John feels that anger surge in him again and he gets his fist in Arthur's hair, powers through the surprised protests. 

Pushes down, in as obvious of a way as he can. 

It goes still.

Not Arthur, or himself, they're both breathing heavy. 

But around them, the room, the air, time itself…

Stills. 

John wants to backtrack, let go, pull away, apologize, flee. 

But he doesn't, he steals himself for whatever reaction Arthur may have. 

The older man is staring, at where John's guided him, mouth level with the younger's clothed crotch. 

"... John," Arthur says after a moment, almost a whisper, hoarse and hesitant. 

John's face starts to burn, his fingers cramping, gripping Arthur's hair so tightly. 

Then the older man does the unexpected. 

Lowers himself, lays between John's legs and presses his mouth to the fabric covering John's cunt. 

John gasps, lets go, purely out of shock. 

Stares at Arthur doe-eyed and caught in his bluff. 

Arthur's eyelids are heavy, gaze cocky, sure in his power over this situation but there's an underlying… Worry.

Concern. 

John's not sure if it's for himself or the older man. 

Arthur shifts his face, moves down a little more, presses his tongue firmly into the thin fabrics over John's nub. 

John's fists clench in the covers and he doesn't dare move. 

"This what you want?" Arthur whispers, breath hot through the damp cotton. 

He might never get this chance again, might never get _anything_ with Arthur again…

John manages to nod, ever so hesitantly. 

Arthur hums and studies him for a few long seconds. 

Then the older man starts undoing John's trousers and drawers and John feels faint. 

He squirms and closes his eyes, turning away as he's exposed, the slick heat between his thighs on display for Arthur. 

The evidence, the incriminating testimony of his _want_ , his desire towards the older man. 

Arthur's thumbs part him and John whimpers sharply, the feeling so foreign, another's touch on him, so close to where he's ached to be touched…

To be touched by Arthur. 

Arthur makes a rough sound, gravelly and _hungry_ , John's toes curling, legs spreading further. 

His body open, pliant, despite his nervousness. 

Arthur's mouth on him is a shattering feeling. 

A crumbling of his resolve, his promise to not pine after Arthur so ardently. 

He whimpers the older man's name, bites down on whines as Arthur sucks on his nub, licks into his cunt. 

"Fuck," John whispers and squirms sharply when Arthur adds a careful thumb to the mix, playing John's nub in controlled, firm circles. 

John's knees draw up, clenching around nothing, only for Arthur drag the flat of his tongue over the slick dripping out of him.

"Arthur-" John gasps, hips twitching up involuntarily, "Shit, Art, I'm-" 

Arthur pulls back and John whines sharply, begs unintelligibly. 

Then Arthur's mouth is on his, and he tastes himself, there are fingers fucking in and out of him and a strong finger pad rubbing his nub, pushing him over so hard and fast John feels faint, grappling at Arthur's collar, neck, shoulders, arms, squeezing, crying the older man's name, hips rocking involuntarily against Arthur's hand while Arthur breathes heavy into the crook of his neck. 

Arthur keeps him like a livewire, letting him settle before firing him right back up again, no sign of letting up, cock hard against John's leg. 

It's brutal, a bit angry. 

And John knows he deserves it. 

His whimpers dissolve into sniffles, then stifled sobs. 

Arthur's fingers finally still, and the older man lifts his head. 

John can't look at him. 

The nausea returns so quickly he has to squeeze his eyes shut as tight as he can, guilt flooding him. 

"John?" Arthur whispers, voice rough. 

"I-" John gasps, tries to catch his breath through the tears, "I'm sorry."

"What?" 

"I'm sorry," John whispers again, voice cracking sharply.

He clenches around Arthur's fingers and chokes on a whimper. 

" _Why?"_ Arthur asks, rather than withdrawing.

"I didn't- Didn't wanna force you to…" John sniffs and rubs roughly at his eyes. 

"You think you forced me?" Arthur asks, a bit astonished. 

"No, but you… I shouldn't’ve made you mad," John whispers. 

"... Do- Did I _hurt_ you?" Arthur asks, tone thick with confusion. 

"Not like a-Like a normal," John wrinkles his nose and sniffs, "Not like a normal punishment."

"Was that a punishment?" 

John hesitates, then shrugs slightly. 

"John," Arthur whispers, and the older man sounds heartbroken, "That wasn't supposed to… It was supposed to feel good."

"It was too much," John whispers, "N' kinda rough." 

" _Did_ I hurt you?" Arthur asks again, a little more frantic, sitting up and slowly pulling his fingers out, framing John's cunt and checking. 

For what exactly, he’s not sure. 

His actions aren’t an equation to warrant John’s reaction in his mind. 

Rough, yeah, maybe, a bit. 

But he hadn’t intended to _hurt_ John, to bruise or break him. 

John squirms away and closes his legs, bringing them up as a barrier between them. 

"I didn't… I didn't mean to hurt you," Arthur whispers. 

"Is it supposed to be like that?" 

"What?" 

"When someone else gets you off, is it supposed to be… Overwhelmin’…?"

Arthur looks a bit sick, suddenly. 

"You… You ain't messed around before?" Arthur asks carefully, voice soft and strangled, “Before this? You ain’t been touched?”

John shakes his head slowly, frowning lightly at the older man. 

Arthur seems to take a long moment to process that, then slowly, very, very slowly rises to kneel near the foot of the bed, staring at the crumpled quilt between them. 

"Shit," Arthur whispers and wipes his mouth on his forearm, "John, that… I wasn't tryin' to hurt you, I swear. I thought you wanted…"

"... I thought I did," John says weakly.

Somehow that seems to make Arthur feel worse, the older man closing his eyes tightly and backing off the bed. 

"I'm-I… I'll come get you in the mornin', alright?" Arthur asks, hurrying towards the door, "I'm _sorry."_

\--

John meets his eyes nervously when he opens the door, half-hiding behind it as he let's Arthur into the room. 

"Are… Are you alright?" Arthur asks before he passes John. 

"... Sore," John murmurs and ducks his head, shifting away when Arthur gets closer. 

It hurts so fucking bad. 

Arthur gathers his things, what he'd left in the room before fleeing like the tucked-tail coward he is. 

"You gon' be okay to ride?" Arthur asks, a bit strangled thinking about how he could've hurt John _that much_ without realizing. 

John slowly shrugs, lopsided and uncertain and Arthur can see he's standing with his thighs tense, clamped together. 

"Shit."

\--

John ends up riding in the wagon, claiming ill.

\--

John takes a while to come back around but gradually he does, perhaps even more rabidly than he'd longed after Arthur before. 

It's… Uncomfortable, that he'd gotten a taste of what something good with Arthur could feel like, only for it to be undone by the rancid anger that brought them together. 

Mostly, he's quiet.

Mostly, he takes up being Arthur's shadow again, helping the older man with only small, ingenuine complaints. 

All while Arthur can barely stand to look at him.

Every time he does John sees the guilt and disgust and heartbreak.

He doesn't know how to explain, to Arthur, that it wasn't all bad, it was just _too much._

\--

They haven't shared a tent, or a room, since… The incident.

Arthur's nervous energy is almost annoying.

John's tired, he wants to sleep but Arthur's thinking too loud.

"I ain't mad at you," John mutters, eyes closed, head pillowed on his arm.

"What?" Arthur asks hoarsely.

"I… Forgive you, I guess. Don't blame you for it to begin with."

"... John-"

"I enjoyed most of it, just shoulda said somethin' when it got too much, but it's not-"

"John," Arthur says again, cutting in sharply and John goes still, a nervous shiver going up his spine, "That ain't how it works."

"... What?" John asks hesitantly.

"You can't just shoulder my crime 'cause you- You… Enjoyed it," Arthur says thinly, croaky.

"... Crime?"

Arthur's quiet, or at least, he stops talking.

John opens his eyes to see Arthur staring at the tent ceiling.

"Arthur?" John whispers.

The older man grimaces then looks over at him.

"Weren't a crime," John says quietly, "Not like you're implyin'. I made you mad… Then baited you into givin' me what I want."

Arthur's quiet for a few minutes, and John doesn't dare break the silence.

"Want?" Arthur echoes.

"I- Yeah- I mean…" John swallows thickly and hides his face in his arm, murmuring, "Yes."

"As in still want?"

"Yes, Arthur, for Christ's sake."

"... _Oh."_

"Jesus," John huffs, as his eyes water in embarrassment.

"... You alright?"

"I don't know. Why do I-? I…" John takes a shaky breath and lowers his voice, "I wanna do it again." 

"What?"

"I want you to… To touch me, again. Like that."

"John, I don't- I don't wanna hurt you… _Again."_

"Then don't be so mean," John mutters in annoyance and hears Arthur's rough inhale, "Just… I liked… Most of it."

"... Yeah?"

"It was just… A lot," John whispers, face flushing, "Don't feel like that, when I do it."

Arthur makes a low, involuntary sound that pierces John's gut with heat.

 _Want_.

"Can… Can we?" John whispers.

"What d'you want?" 

John glances at Arthur's face nervously and lifts himself up to crawl closer, laying down next to the older man then turning to face away from Arthur.

Squirming back until he feels Arthur's hips against his ass.

Arthur's hand hesitantly wraps around his hip. 

"Like this?" John asks shakily.

"Just my fingers?"

"Just… Yeah, um," John swallows thickly, "Outside."

"... Alright," Arthur says hoarsely and moves his hand to cup John through the younger's drawers, John breathing in sharply. 

"Fuck," John bites out then covers his mouth tightly. 

"Jesus," Arthur whispers, "You're so sensitive."

John half-shrugs then stills with a whimper when Arthur's fingers rub him through the fabric. 

"Yeah," Arthur murmurs, "Shit, yeah you are, Johnny."

"Please," John whispers against his hand.

"Please what?"

"I… I don't know."

"Hm," Arthur's fingers gently play with his nub through the fabric then the older man presses up against him from behind. 

John can feel Arthur's cock against his ass, and it makes him fluster. 

"Lemme know… If it starts bein' too much, yeah?" 

"Mm," John barely manages, closing his eyes tightly. 

Arthur's fingers press the loose fabric into John's slit, moving it back to get it damp with slick, lighting pressing his fingertips into John through the fabric. 

Then moving the slicked cotton over John's nub and slowly stroking. 

"Nn, fuck," John whimpers and squirms, forward into the touch and then back against Arthur. 

"Good?" Arthur asks hoarsely. 

"Yeah, yeah, please?" 

"What, Darlin'?" 

"I… Inside?" John asks hesitantly, feeling his face flush at the pet name, "Your fingers?" 

"Under these?" Arthur tugs lightly on the fabric of John's drawers. 

John nods shakily and reaches down to undo the laces. 

Arthur pulls his hand out of the way and lightly presses his lips to the back of John's shoulder, watching. 

John shivers against him and shoves his drawers open, hesitating. 

Arthur softly rubs John's lower belly, slowly moving his hand down, watching the younger for any sign of discomfort. 

John's lips part at the feeling of Arthur's fingers brushing over his nub. 

"S-Shit," John whispers and leans his head back on Arthur's shoulder making a small, weak noise of pleasure. 

"Like that?" Arthur murmurs and catches John's nub between two fingers, stroking it slowly, "This?"

"Yeah, s'good, shit, Arthur," John bites down on a whine and squirms, rocking his hips into the touch. 

"Still need more?" 

John nods roughly and exhales shakily. 

Arthur's fingers slide inside of him, two, pumping slowly. 

"Fuck," John gasps and clenches around the fingers.

It'd all gone too quickly last time for him to appreciate how Arthur's fingers fill him better than his own ever could. 

"You're gonna ruin me," John mutters then bites down on a whimper when Arthur crooks his fingers. 

"What?" Arthur wrinkles his nose in confusion, pumps his fingers a little faster. 

"Feels better… Your fingers."

" _Oh,"_ Arthur swallows loudly behind him, letting out a small, shaky laugh.

"... 'Nother?" John whispers. 

"You sure?"

John nods and hesitantly spreads his legs further, hooking one back over Arthur's thigh. 

"Shit," Arthur mutters and pulls his fingers out to spread the leaking slick up to John's nub and over his three fingers, lightly playing with the bundle of nerves, making John twitch and squirm. 

Then he slides all three fingers in, crooking them to catch the tender spot inside of John, pumping slow and firm. 

"A-ah… Fast… Faster?" John whispers.

"Close?" Arthur asks and starts to fuck his fingers into John. 

John nods frantically and reaches back, squeezing Arthur's forearm. 

"You gon' come for me, Johnny?" Arthur murmurs against the younger's shoulder, "Gonna let me hear you?"

"Yeah, yeah, please," John whimpers and his legs fight to close as he curls in on himself, starting to come. 

"Too much?" 

"No!" John whispers desperately, "Please?" 

"You wanna come?" Arthur whispers, brushing John's nub with his thumb, "Hm, Darlin'?" 

"Yes. Yeah, Art, wanna come, wanna-" John cuts off with a shaky sound and reaches down to grab Arthur's wrist, pulling the older man's fingers out and moving them to his nub. 

Arthur circles it, quick, concise movements until John's making bitten-off whimpers and shaking against him, coming. 

Arthur keeps going for a few seconds then slows down, tries to ease John down from the high, then rubbing back over John's hole, groaning quietly at the slick that coats his fingers. 

**Author's Note:**

> [morston discord](https://discord.gg/BFFx4Xy)  
> [my twitter](https://www.twitter.com/providentialone)  
> also Munchy is hosting a Morston Week in August! here's more info  
> [Morston Week Twitter](https://twitter.com/MorstonWeek)  
> [Morston Week Tumblr](https://morstonweek.tumblr.com/)


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